The Truth About
by NewYorks
Summary: ´How do you figure,' he asked one night, 'that I should have a soul'. She scowled and brightened at the challenge. A small study on souls. [Fiyeraba][Oneshot]


**A/N: This is a little something that popped into my head one night. I hope you enjoy it; comments are very much appreciated! Thank you!**

_Disclaimer: No, I do not own Wicked. If I did, you wouldn't be reading this._

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**The Truth About **

"How do you figure," he asked one night, "that I should have a soul?"

She as much as glanced at him. "A soul? Bold." She was fully aware now of his movements, of his intentions. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "You claim not to own one. Then why should I?"

"_I_ become lost in the human _self_. _I_ have no self, no conscious. _I_ have no _soul_." She paused, and looked at him in the eye. "I have no _spirit_, I have no _God_."

"You don't?" he asked with false mockery, a grin appearing on his face. "How do you motivate then? How do you keep your_self_ passionate –"

"I have no _self_ –"

"– how do you distinguish yourself from animals?"

"Ah," she said, a bit annoyed but intrigued by the conversation in itself, flattered by his spontaneous – but perhaps not so spontaneous – interest. "**A**nimals, my dear, **A**nimals. Not **a**nimals, but **A**nimals. We're no different, are we?" she looked at him with more passion, more excitement than what he had ever imagined this topic would incite in her. "Are we?"

"I would assume not." He wasn't really concerned into whether Animals and animals and humans were the same, or into deriving the conversation to something similar and redundant all the same. He was fascinated by _her_. "Then what makes you different?" he paused, and gauged her reaction. "If you have no soul, how can you know that animals are not Animals, and that humans are not Humans? How can you know who is wrong and who is right?"

She smiled. A genuine smile, but uneasy even so. "Wrong or Right? Have you not learned anything with me?" she sighed and crossed the room over to his side. "There is no _wrong_, there is no _right_; there is harm, and there is aid. There is misery, and there is joy. There is oppression, and there is freedom. It's your pick: you choose which one to live in."

Was she evading his question? "But how can you _know_ since you have no soul – no consciousness?"

She scowled and brightened at the challenge "The soul is the ethereal substance — spirit — particular to a unique being; it is the true basis for sentience in each human." She was being seductive: enticing him with her words. She knew this always worked. "Nothing and no one says that the lack of a _soul_ means the lack of _awareness_. Most people have a soul. And most people are _not_ aware." She was throwing him a declaration, a silent claim she herself had formulated. "I have no self," she repeated, exasperated now, "I have no conscious. But I _am_ aware."

He grinned at her tone, at her frustrations, at her fervor. He smiled at her interest but lack of assurance. He enjoyed this moment; he enjoyed her weakness. Yes, this was her weakness, definitely. "I ask then," he paused, apologizing with his looks for his smirk when she threw him a glance, "how do you figure that I should have a soul? Am I not aware? Have you not made me alert?"

She laughed viciously: she was punishing him. "Brave of you, dear, brave of you. You're my hero, darling, but don't get ahead of yourself. You could never be aware. Oh, don't look hurt. You have a spirit; and naïve at that." she crossed the place, and inched closer to his form.

"So do I have a soul, then?" his voice seemed quite hopeful and relieved. A chuckle escaped her lips before she could even catch herself.

"Do you believe that you have a soul? – that's what's essential – do you _believe_?" he nodded, and she smiled, circling her arms from behind his back around his waist – something he would have typically done instead of her – kissing him from behind. "Then there's your answer."

They delved into each other, forgetting words, exploring themselves and their fire, pushing limits to the edge. They became one, and whether they had a soul or not, it didn't matter. When they were together, there was no conscious, there were no selves: they were one, and they were alive; they were aware of each other, and they believed. And nothing else mattered.


End file.
